A Slytherin in Gryffindor
by chicadoodle
Summary: More hot chocolate for the crazy boy who DID want to be sorted into Slytherin! Raised in a family steeped in the dark arts, with a long tradition of ending up in Slytherin, who ever said Sirius wanted to be in Gryffindor?


_So, I was surfing around recently, and found a submission showing James trying to cheer Sirius up after he was placed in Gryffindor, and the artist made some comments about how it seemed unrealistic to her that Sirius actually _**wanted **_to be placed anywhere but Slytherin. After all, he was raised with the Slytherin mind-set, was he not? And that got me thinking, and I promised her to write a story based around this theory. And, well, here it is :) Reviews are more than welcome!_

_Many thanks go out to the HP Lexicon ( for all the wonderful information they have compiled there -- otherwise I would have had a hell of a time finding out the names of Sirius' relatives :o Enjoy!_

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He sat down gingerly on the rickety old chair, watching as his grandmother spoke quietly with his mother.

She was reclining in bed, several pillows stacked behind her as they spoke in hushed tones, and he couldn't help but notice that every once in a while his grandmother would glance at him, a worried frown on her aged face.

He wasn't even sure why he had been allowed to come today -- none of the other childeren had been allowed to see their grandmother lately, not with her as sick as she was. She was **dieing**. They all knew it, even though their parents refused to talk about it. It hung over the house like a black cloud, dampening everybody's spirits.

But his mother had brought him here, taking the Floo Network to the private Hosptial that _her_ mother was being held at, barely speaking a word the entire way.

Narcissa had been upset that he got to go, when _she_ didn't. She had been the most vocal out of all the childeren, and Sirius winced inwardly as he remembered he words from earlier that day.

He wished he wasn't here. Not that he'd ever say so to his mother, or his _grandmother_, heaven forbid, but ... this place gave him a bad feeling, filled as it was with the sick and dieing, with people waiting for the end to take him. If he was more poetic, he could have given his feelings words, but he had never been one to express himself verbally.

Fighting back the urge to slouch down in his chair, Sirius kept his gaze riveted on his hands, folded neatly in his lap. _Why was he here?_

"Are you sure about this, Mother? Look at him!" Walburga Black pursed her thin lips togeather, watching as her son squirmed in his seat, dark head bowed and hands twisting togeather. No matter what he did, he never seemed able to sit still, and it aggrevated her to no end.

Irma Black sent her daughter a sharp look, dark eyes sharp as she held the younger woman's gaze for a moment, before shifting her gaze once again to her grandson. "I'm sure, Walburga. Retrieve my chest for me, would you?"

Walburga gave a long suffering sigh, not for the first time despising the fact that House Elves were not allowed within the hospital's walls. How she hated fetching thigns for her mother like a common servant! She did as she was bid, however, knowing from experience that her mother was just as talented in wandless magic now as she had always been.

The chest was light, weighing barely anything at all with the featherlight charm her mother had placed on it years ago, but still Walburga glowered at the thing as if it were repulsive and heavy, holding back the small sigh she wanted to give, as she placed the chest ont he floor next to her mother. She knew the price of obedience well.

"Sirius, come here." Irma Black crooked one imperious finger at the boy, watching with a smile as he hopped down from the chair, scurring over to her side with a curious glance toward the chest.

Patting the bed, Irma waited until he had climbed up beside her before motioning for her daughter to open the chest, sitting back against the headboard until an item was offered to her -- a book, filled to bursting with not only theoriginal pages it had contained, but others she had slipped in there over the years. The cover was care-worn and had numerous scratched and pen markings from the years.

Irma accepted it with a smile, before focusing her attention once again on her grandson.

"Sirius, I would like you to have this." Her gaze was serious as she watched Sirius accept the book, a strange wetness touching her eyes as the boy opened the book, fingers trailing over the sketch on the very first page -- it had been years since she had glanced through those first few pages, filled with her sketches and the more simple spells she had come across while at Hogwarts.

Reaching over, she trailed her fingers through his short, midnight black hair, smiling as she though how much he reminded her of his namesake, Sirius Black from the previous generation. There had always been a Sirius the House of Black, and always would b -- leaders, all of them. Even young Siriusback before she had been born, had been a natural born leader, plucked from this life before he had a chance to affect those around him -- just eight years old, the stories said, taken down by a rabid werewolf.

And this boy ... he had a way about him, so much like the others before him, a way with people that made them want to help him, want to like him and be liked by him in return. He always brought a smile to her lips when she saw him, whether he was behaving or not. And more often than not, he was getting in to some kind of trouble.

She could sympathize with Walburga on that note -- her own Alphard had been the same, far too curious for his own good.

Alphard was the reason Sirius and his brother Regulus had been homeschooled from the very start -- her Alphard had gone to a public school, as had her other childeren. But Alphard ... he had come home with wild stories from the other students, so full of questions and theories. Were there really childeren that couldn't do magic? Could he meet them? He had always wanted to know them, to play their games and investigate their _technology_. They'd been able to dissuade him after a while, but it had been a trying time for the family.

And it worried her, sometimes, how she would see so much of Alphard in Sirius. And then other times, all she could do was laugh, as he pulled some outrageious stunt and somehow lived to tell the tale. Like the time he had decided he could fly if he jumped off the roof ... And his accidental magic had kicked in, actually allowing it to work. He'd bragged about that for weeks afterwards.

Brought back down to Earth at the questioning glance Sirius was directing at her, Irma took a deep breath, instantly regretting it when her breath caught painfully in her chest, doubling offer in pain as she started coughing painfully.

Sirius pulled back a bit, clutching the book to his chest as he watched his mother rush to his grandmother's side, tears pricking at his suddenly dry eyes.

It was only later, as they walked down the hallway toward the Floo Room, that those tears finially fell, and Sirius sniffed as quietly as he could, peeking a look up at his mother who walked silently beside him. Her hand came to rest around his shoulders, giving him one of her rare smiles, and Sirius smile dback, leaning aginst her side.

Gandmother really was dieing, wasn't she? It had seemed impossible before, that she could really die -- she was so strong, so demanding. And sometimes a little demeaning. But he knew from experience that was only because she wanted nothing but the best from him -- from all of them.

Narcissa was still upset with him.

Sirius stared out the window, curled up in the window seat of his bedroom, the large book from hisgrandmother resting in his lap, both his hands curled around the think leather. He'd only leafed through the pages casually since Grandmother Irma had first given it to him, lingering on the sketches that littered the first few pages. REgulus wanted to try out some of the spells, but Sirius hadn't let him near them yet, and had been horrified when Reg had casually told him to just tear the pages out.

So no, Regulus wasn't getting anywhere near this book, not by a long shot. Not if that was the way he was going to treat it.

Trailing his fingers over the heavily leather cover, Sirius cocked his head slightly to the left, a small bubble of excitement welling up inside of him as he thought of the trip to Daigon Alley they would be making tomorrow. And for the first time, it wouldn't be a boring trip to gather Reg's things -- _he'd_ be going to Hogwarts this year, _he'd_ be learning the fancy spells that Regulus was always bragging about during the holidays.

Unable to fight the grin spreading over his face, Sirius leaned back against the pillow behind him, clutching the book to his chest and staring out the window. _He couldn't wait_. Couldn't wait to play pranks on the obnixious Gryffindors, to scare Narcissa and Bella with stories and spells -- especially the spells. They'd both be going to Hogwarts this year as well, and while it annoyed him that he'd still have all the same classes as them, it wasn't enough to dampen his spirits. Not really. After all, there would be plenty of other childeren, childeren he'd never even met, some older, but some his age. _Boy's his own age_. That thought excited him most of all, of playing and learning with other boy's, instead of just Bella and Narcissa. They were nice, but they were ... well, they were _girls_, and Girls were something he was pretty sure he'd never understand. Uncle Alphard said he still didn't understand Girls, and he was _old_. At least thirty.

Starting slightly at the sound of his bedroom door opening, Sirius turned to watch as his father made his way into the room, a small smile on his lips.

Orion settled on to the edge of the window seat, one hand on his knee and the fingers of his left hand splayed out on the cushions his youngest son wass tretched out on. "Your Mother told me you didn't eat any lunch today."

Sirius shrugged, ducking his head and refusing to meet his father's eyes. His fingers continued to move over the cover of his Grandmother's book, and he kept his eyes glued to their movement, ears pricked for any sound of movement from his father.

"I see Irma finially chose a child to hand this over to." Orion Black reached forward, trailing the fingers of his left hand over the bindings and cover of the book, a small smile touching his lips. Sirius simply nodded, shifting his attention to his father's long fingered hand, watching as it brushed back and forth across the surface of the book.

"I just wasn't hungry." Sirius finially ventured, glancing up at his father and watching as he sat back, dark eyes trained on Sirius. Hoping that his father hadn't talked to the House Elves, hoping that they hadn't told him --

"Kreacher told me you had him make some sandwiches for you. That you ate alone in your room."

Nope, no such luck.

Sirius tried to duck his head again, but this time Orion was having nothing to do with it. Instead, he gripped his son's chin in his hand, forcing Sirius to look at him. "What's wrong Siri?"

Sirius blushed at the nickname, eyes crinkling with a smile that his _father_ had used it. Orion had never been one for nicknames and sentimentality, so it meant a bit more than when his brother, or one of the girls used it.

"She was really sick." Sirius finially whispered, casting his gaze done toward the book in his lap as he pulled out one of the sketches, running his fingers over the yellowed piece of paper.

Orion released his son's chin, taking the paper from the boy's small hands. He'd never known Irma had drawn, especially not this good. She had been so proud of everything else she did, he was surprised he hadn't seen drawings like the one he held in his hands hanging on the walls of her room when she was younger, before she'd been relegated to the hospital room she would likely die in.

And that was what was bothering Sirius. It wasn't what he had expected, couldn't really understand it. Irma was his paternal grandmother, yes, but they'd never been close -- Irma had never really grown close to any of her grandchilderen, or any of her childeren for that matter, instead relegating their upbringing to nannies and House Elves.

But for some reason, she appeared to have formed a bond with Sirius in her final moments with him, and Orion couldn't help but be annoyed but that -- it would serve to do nothing else but hurt the boy, with her already on her deathbed.

"Can I see her again? Before she ... can I?"

It wasn't like the other times the childeren had asked to see their grandmother -- They had always asked simply because it was forbidden, because it was something that, if they were allowed, they could hold over their playmate's heads. Something to brag about.

But that wasn't why Sirius was asking now, and it gave Orion pause. And as Sirius' eyes filled with hope from that pause, Orion gave a small sigh, smiling as he reached over to run his fingers through Sirius' hair, setting the parchment drawing down beside himself as he straightened. "I'll think about it."

Sirius nodded at that, knowing it was the best he was going to get -- he was surprised his father hadn't said no outright, and could only hope that if he was _really_ good, he'd be allowed to go again.

"But don't pull another stunt like this, Sirius. I expect to see you downstairs for dinner." Orion stood, stretching languidly before smiling down at his son, making his way out of the room and closing the door quietly behind himself.

Sirius sighed heavily, collapsing back against the cushions and staring off into space.


End file.
